


The Samhain Ball

by KittyleFay



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anonymous Sex, Costume Parties & Masquerades, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Halloween, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, References to Hades & Persephone, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-20 22:27:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12443097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyleFay/pseuds/KittyleFay
Summary: As Hogwarts hosts a masked ball for Samhain, Draco seeks solace from his boredom in a particularly extraordinary witch...and he has no idea who she is.





	The Samhain Ball

Hogwarts was dark on Hallowe’en. Although the golden moon was full and the silver stars ever abundant, students moved like shadows in the night, all of them wearing different faces. Some wore the faces of ghouls and goblins, others of princes and princesses, and all of them danced to the songs of ghosts in the most magnificent robes of all colours. 

Draco Malfoy hated it. He hadn’t cared much for the Yule Ball four years ago and the thought of dressing up for a Samhain Ball made him wince. Damn Prof. McGonnagall for coming up with the very idea! Still, he was the Slytherin Prefect. Normally, he’d have been more than happy to set an example to the little snakelets of his house, but to do so in a costume was nothing short of humiliating. _Swallow your pride_ , he told himself.  _At some point, a true Slytherin must learn to swallow his pride._  He had chosen to dress as Hades. If he were to dress up in a damned costume, he thought it best if he dressed up as something magnificent and what finer robes to fill than those of a god? He was adorned from head to toe in black and silver and covering half his face was a skull for a mask and resting on his head was a crown made of hawthorn twigs. He looked ridiculous, but he’d be damned before he showed any sign of humiliation.

The firewhiskey helped, at least. His flask, along with his wand, was hidden well in his pockets and he took every opportunity that he could to take a hearty swig any time McGonnagall’s back was turned. Most notably, he had taken one when he saw Pansy Parkinson, who was dressed as a mermaid, dancing with Blaize Zabini, who was dressed as a pirate. He had taken another when Trelawney–who had likely had one too many butterbeers–approached him with ridiculous ramblings about meeting his heart’s darling, whatever that meant. He nearly choked on his next sip when he saw who Potter, Weasley, Longbottom, Finnigan, Thomas, and even Lovegood was dancing with.

 _Persephone_ , he thought. At the very least, she was clearly  _dressed_  as Persephone in a silken gown of white and gold that seemed to float as she danced and left little to the imagination. Her hair was a knot of chocolate brown curls dripping with the petals from her crown of golden roses. She had the most luminous olive skin and such a lithe frame that would make any man fall to his knees for her. Although much of her face was hidden by an intricately detailed mask made of gold, Draco knew that she was beautiful…whoever she was.

She was dancing from partner to partner. As she spun from one boy to the next girl, Draco could hear a familiar laugh escaping her full red lips. Knowing that it was only a matter of time before she would dance with him, he searched the depths of his pockets for his wand. He simply  _had_  to remain her dance partner and he knew exactly how.

_“Accio pomegranate.”_

It took several dancing partners before she would find him. She gasped and stopped on her dainty feet when he presented her with the fruit in his hand. She laughed and took the pomegranate in her hands.

“My favourite,” she said. Her voice sounded very familiar. “How did you know?”

“Lucky guess,” he smirked. “Care to name your price?”

“Price?” 

“A seed for a dance, if you’ll dance with me.”

Persephone’s dark eyes twinkled, as she took a wand from one of her own pockets. Draco couldn’t help but smile at her practicality. 

 _“Secare_ _,”_  she whispered and cut the fruit in half with the tip of her wand. She gave one half back to him, picked four seeds from her own half, and popped three into her mouth. She stopped at the fourth and looked to him. With a wicked smile playing at the edge of her deep red lips, she placed the seed onto his tongue. He did not dare stop himself from taking the opportunity to gently suck the tip of her finger.

She tasted delicious.

The witch stepped closer and closer until Draco could smell her rather unusual perfume. Her lips were just barely touching his when she told him under her breath: “Three dances for now; one for later.”

The pomegranate had vanished into thin air with a simple flick of her wand, which she then stuffed back into her pocket. When she stepped back, she offered her hand. Rarely one to be told twice, he took her hand in his and followed her to the center of the ballroom.

Their first dance was practically a duel. Both parties appeared to fight for dominance with each step until his hands were on her waist and hers in his hair until he lifted her body above his with the rise and fall of the crescendo. Their second dance was more ardent. He may well have made love to her right then and there in the middle of the dance floor, as his clever fingers seemed to caress every inch of her body but her mouth. Their third dance was surprisingly more chaste. With one hand on her waist and the other in hers, his brow resting on hers and their lips barely touching, they moved slowly. 

People began to stare. Some watched in awe, others (most notably her previous dancing partners) in confusion. Potter and Weasley, in particular, appeared to watch in utter disgust. Their jaws were on the ground and they were looking at Draco as if they wanted to kill him. At this, he could not hide his smirk nor could he help himself from mocking their misery with a gentle peck on the girl’s neck. She did not hinder him.

He did not notice that the music had stopped until she walked away.

“Wait!”

She did not respond until Draco reached for her wrist. 

“You promised me another dance.”

“I said three dances for now,” she said, “and one for later.”

The witch pulled her hand away and continued walking towards the door. Draco looked left and right to see if anyone was staring at him. Only Potter and Weasley were looking at him and their eyes were as wide as saucers when they watched her. When he looked back to her he only had to watch the way her hips swayed to know what she meant. 

She wasn’t inviting him to just any dance.

As he followed her, he counted the times she looked back at him and giggled like an excited schoolgirl. Sometimes she would hide in corners just to see if he would find her and follow her to another direction. Eventually, he was able to catch up with her and corner her into her hiding place. 

Her lips tasted of pomegranates when he kissed her.

She moaned into his mouth when their lips parted to make way for tongues. He could feel himself growing hard against her when he felt her fingers raking through his hair and her teeth catching his lower lip. Her hips began to buck under his touch. His hands were not idle and were yearning to feel every last curve and crevice of her body. When his left hand found her breast she pushed him away, laughed, and ran. 

As he continued to chase after her, he couldn’t help but smile when he deduced where she was leading him to. When he turned the final corner, he found her smiling as she shut the doors before he could follow her inside the library. 

 _You wicked little tease_ , he thought as he opened the heavy doors, only catching a glimpse of her before she hid behind a bookshelf.  _I’ll have to make you pay for that._  

Draco marched towards the shelf where Persephone, or whoever she was, hid from him. When he found her he was quick to corner her and press her against the bookshelf, taking the opportunity to grind his hips against hers, making her whine. She struggled against him but he could practically smell her arousal. If only she would hold still. Taking her by wrists, he held them against the bookshelf and pressed harder against her.

“Now,” he growled. “About that last dance, you promised me.”

The witch did not fight against him when he kissed her again. She did not even squirm as she did before. The only movements she made against him were in her hot mouth and eager hips. Eventually, he released her hands to explore her body with his own. This time, she did not stop him. She did not slap his hands away from her breasts,  her waist, her hips, her arse, her thighs, or the moist warmth between them. Instead, she responded in kind. Soon, his lips trailed down her neck and grew to love the sounds she made when he hit a certain spot that made her hips buck.

But her voice still sounded so familiar. Who was she?

He reached for her mask.

“No,” she gasped. “Leave them on.”

“Well, who are you then?”

“No one of consequence.”

“I have to know.”

“Get used to disappointment.”

There was that smirk playing at her now kiss-swollen lips again, as she suppressed a giggle. Draco furrowed his brow and opened his mouth to ask what in the depths of hell she was talking about but only came out with a groan when he felt her hot mouth on his neck and her clever hand on his crotch. Stroking his length through his dress robes and finding just the right spot behind his ear to make him shudder, the witch was tormenting him.

“Tell me–ah! Tell me who you are.”

“And spoil this? I don’t think so.”

“Tell me!”

“No.”

Growling, Draco grabbed the witch by her wrists again and pinned her against the bookshelf. She giggled; honest to Merlin giggled. “You’ll tell me.”

Before she could protest, he reached between her legs and found that her cunt was dripping. He tried his damnedest to hide his smirk when he found that she was not wearing any knickers and was neatly trimmed. One finger inserted into her folds stopped her from giggling and another started her moaning. She all but cried when he found her clitoris. The scent of her arousal mingling with her perfume was so intoxicating that he knew that he couldn’t possibly torment her for this long. 

He had to taste her.

Draco fell to his knees. The witch whined when his fingers left her cunt but her cries elevated when they were replaced by his tongue. As he lapped at her folds like a starving man, her leg began to wrap around his shoulders and her fingers to pull his hair. The only time her hands left him was when he heard the rustling of her robes and as his own hands began to explore her body, he found her breasts bared and begging to be touch. Her left nipple was so hard against the center of his right palm and her touch gentle against his, though her grip on his hair tightened with every last lick along her labia. 

She was close. That much he could tell. He wasn’t going to let her come just yet.

When he stopped, had half-expected the witch to beg for more or push his head back down between her legs. Instead, once he was on his feet, she grabbed him by the collar of his robes for a hard and hungry kiss before hissing against his lips: “Fuck me.”

Draco smiled and nodded, fumbling through his pockets for his wand and beginning to mutter a contraception spell under his breath but she stopped him. 

“No,” she said. “It’s alright. I’m on the pill.”

His brow furrowed under his mask. What in Merlin’s name was the pill?

Before he could ask, the witch searched through his robes and his briefs for his cock and parted her legs for him. Their moans echoed throughout the room when he entered her. She was so hot and so tight around him that he was tempted to let go but he held back. He refused to spill himself into her so early like a virginal schoolboy. Instead, he took a nipple into his mouth and began to move at a slow and steady pace in spite of her begging.

“Harder,” she groaned and then squeaked when his palm struck her arse.

“Tell me who you are.”

She shook her head and cried out again at the next strike.

“Tell me.”

“Oh! Harder! Faster!”

Another strike. “Tell.” Then another. “Me.” Another.  _“Now!”_

The witch opened her mouth and for a moment, Draco thought she was about to give him an answer. Instead, she grabbed him for another hard kiss before pushing him to the ground. He felt dangerously exposed, regardless of the empty library. He thought, for a moment, that she was going to leave him hard and wanting, the saucy minx. Instead, she lifted her skirts up, moved to sit astride him, took hold of his cock, and pulled it into her. As the witch began to ride him, her left hand gripped firmly at his neck while the right snuck underneath her skirts. She was touching herself. Draco’s cries became desperate, as all he could do was watch her fingers move in circles around her clitoris and her breasts bounce with every rise and fall on his cock.

Draco could feel the witch’s cunt tightening around his cock and she all but screamed when she came. This triggered his own climax. Their cries echoed violently throughout the library. 

The witch collapsed at Draco’s side, just as breathless and flushed as he was. Her breasts and thighs were still on display and she made no attempt to cover them. For a moment, Draco wished that she had been fully naked but had no energy to tear her dress from her body, dearly thought he’d have liked to. The mask on the other hand…

“Take off your mask.”

He hadn’t meant for it to sound more like a question than a command but he was too exhausted to care. “Please,” he said as an afterthought. “I want to know who you are.”

Having finally caught her breath, the witch turned to him and smiled. “You only had to say ‘please,’” she said. She sat up, not bothering to cover herself, and pulled the mask from her face. Draco’s heart stopped. 

“Granger?”

She furrowed her brow. “Yes?”

Draco’s brow also furrowed. Did she really have no idea who he was? He sat up before her and took off his own mask. She gasped. 

“Malfoy?”

Granger’s eyes were now as wide as saucers and her face had turned a deep scarlet, as she fumbled over her dress to cover herself.

“You seriously didn’t know that it was me?”

“Of course, I didn’t! Though, now that I think of it, only  _you_  would be pompous enough to fancy yourself as Hades.”

“And only  _you_  would be pretentious enough to fancy yourself as Persephone.”

“I just like the story and have since I was little. How do you know it, anyway?”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Really, Granger…”

“Hermione.”

“… _everyone_  knows the story.”

Hermione opened her mouth but said nothing. Instead, she buried her face in her hand and shook her head. She began muttering something that sounded like: “Stupid, stupid, stupid.” Draco watched her and vaguely remembered seeing her crying after the Yule Ball after an argument with Weasley. He was then reminded of her relationship with the little weasel.

“What were you doing with me, anyway?” he had to ask. “I mean, I thought you were with Weasley.”

“I was,” she said. “Not anymore; turns out we don’t have as much in common as we thought. Anyway, weren’t you with Pansy?”

“Parkinson?” Draco rolled his eyes. “Oh, she wishes. We slept together  _once_  and the next day she was telling everyone that I was her boyfriend. She ended up sleeping with Zabini a month later.”

Hermione was biting her bottom lip. A slight curl was playing at the corner of her mouth and it looked like she was fighting back the urge to laugh. As she fumbled through her dress in attempts to cover herself whilst also covering the deep shade of red in her cheeks, he could only see traces of the puny buck-toothed girl he’d known since they were eleven. She looked different, somehow. Draco opened his mouth to say something but stopped himself. Instead, he reached into one of his pockets and pulled out his flask. He took a sip before offering it to her. She looked in need of it. He may have been a pureblood and she a mudblood, but he was still a gentleman.

“Thanks,” she said, taking the flask from his hand and taking an oddly large swig.

“Never pegged you for a lush, Granger.”

“Hermione and I’m not above the occasional drink. Anyway, I never pictured  _you_  as particularly lascivious.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you were surprisingly amorous while we were…ahem, busy.”

“Humph! You were pretty amorous yourself. Can’t say I’ve ever seen  _that_  side of you. I always thought you were a virgin.”

Hermione burst out laughing. 

“What?”

“I wasn’t a virgin, Draco. Viktor saw to that when I was fifteen.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. He suddenly remembered the Yule Ball three years ago and remembered that, yes, she was with Krum at the time. She was also wearing a periwinkle blue gown which, even he had to admit, wasn’t entirely unflattering on her. If he didn’t value his pride he would say that she was stunning; he’d probably say so now.

“Funny,” she continued. “I always thought  _you_  would have been a virgin.”

Draco’s eyes went wide and his face red.  _“Me!?”_  he shot. “A virgin? What in Merlin’s name gave you  _that_  idea? ”

“I’ve never seen you with anyone that you really liked, that’s all. Even when I saw you with Parkinson, you never seemed to like her very much, at least not enough to sleep with her.”

“Well, I certainly wasn’t a virgin. Just ask any Slytherin girl!”

“How many?”

“What?”

“How many Slytherin girls should I ask?”

“Pssh! I lost count ages ago.”

Hermione rolled her eyes but teased a smile. She took another swig before handing the flask back to Draco, who took a much larger swig than any other he’d taken throughout the evening.

“So…what do we do now?” she asked.

“About what?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “About  _this_ , Draco.”

“Oh…I could obliviate you.”

“No, that could backfire.”

“Good point.”

“Should we just keep this to ourselves, or…?”

Draco shook his head. “We could try, but Potter and Weasley saw us dancing together. They saw me going after you as well.”

Hermione’s eyes widened. “You don’t think they…?”

“Probably.”

Hermione buried her face in her hands again and groaned. She began mumbling things that Draco couldn’t possibly make out. He almost felt sorry for her.

“Look,” he said. “If they ask, if anyone asks, we could just say that nothing happened. They don’t have to know. No one has to know.”

Hermione took her hands from her face and looked at Draco once before seemingly staring into space. She said nothing and he wished to all gods above that he knew what she was thinking. Eventually, she straightened herself and nodded. 

“No one has to know,” she agreed. 

For the first time in his life, he was smiling at her.

When they stood up and rearranged their clothing as well as their masks, Hermione whispered a spell to put her hair back in its place and did the same for Draco.

“Thanks, Granger.”

She smiled and much to his surprise, she kissed him. It was a more chaste kiss than the many before, though she still tasted just as sweet. He found himself, once again, wanting more.

“For the last time,” she whispered against his lips.  _“Hermione.”_

Draco smiled and kissed her again. “Hermione.”

Hermione smiled back and nodded. “Thank you, Draco.”

Before he could ask what it was she was thanking him for, she took her wand from her pocket and pointed it towards him.

“ _Obliviate_.”

**Author's Note:**

> I may or may not expand this into an entire series surrounding the holidays of the Wiccan calendar and, yes, Hermione's decision in the end will be addressed.


End file.
